That Boy
by CellarGangGirl
Summary: When Harry runs out after blowing up Marge, Petunia thinks back on how she raised him wrong; how she let her sister down.
1. That Boy

AN: I guess I really love turning characters that are normally hated into good people. Kinda like I wanna do with the rest of the world. Anyhow, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter. JK Rowling made an amazing world which I love, and I would never pretend to own it.

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Petunia Dursley sat in her mid-sized bathroom, fretting over the circumstances of her life.

That boy... How could she have let things spin out of control, get this far out of hand? He was just a boy, and she had no idea where he was now; he could be getting killed. She was supposed to be his guardian; she was supposed to protect him from these things. She was letting her sister down.

Lily... Oh, how she missed her little sister. She'd shunned her all through their teenage years, right up to the day she was killed. Looking back on it all now, Petunia wished she'd been brave enough to tell her sister that she was jealous. They would have been saved so much heartache and pain - Petunia remembered seeing her sister off every year, watching her sister's sad eyes ride off into the distance, wishing Petunia wouldn't call her a freak. She remembered the happiness and cheer when Lily came home for the holidays, how the girl would gush about school and Petunia would - in hiding her ultimate interest - snip at her and call her a freak once more.

Lily never lost that spark, that light that surrounded her. The day Harry was found on her doorstep, a letter beside him, she couldn't help but remember all the brilliant times from when they were children; all the times when Lily would smile and laugh when they were teens. She'd wallowed in the memories of her little sister's wedding day, seeing her pledge her life to James Potter - how she'd felt the twinge of pride that her sister had found her life's partner. How she'd been jealous when mum and dad had gushed over baby Harry when her own little Dudly sat just next to him on the sitting room floor. How Lily had attempted to console her when their parents had passed away.

And there was her sister's one year old boy, dropped off at her home in suburban England in the middle of the night. She had fretted secretly over him, pretending to take trips to the bathroom in the dead of night to check on the boy, to make sure that her sister's killer didn't come back for him and steal him away, as well. Vernon would never understand how she cared so much for a magical child, how she could stand the abnormality. And so, she never let Vernon see her care. She showered Dudley in attention and gifts; she left Harry with nothing more than the ratty clothes on his back and the scraps of food her own son left. But while she treated her own son like a king, she watched Harry. She saw the same spark she'd attributed to her sister in her son's matching eyes. She prayed every night for the boy's welfare and refused to tell him the horrific truth of his parents' death - she would not subject a boy to that horror, nor the terror that would surely follow. She wouldn't be able to console him when he became frightened of the murderer - it would not be allowed by Vernon.

She had raised the boy wrong. No matter her intentions - she'd been wrong, she'd done wrong by little Harry. She'd treated him as Vernon had - as though he didn't belong. She'd lied to him and left him with nowhere to be himself but a cupboard under the stairs. She'd never told him what he was, and she'd allowed Vernon's cruel punishment for the things she knew the boy couldn't help. She'd never let him see a single picture of his mother, though she told him frequently that he looked nothing like her. She never told him that he looked just like his noble father, who'd given his life to protect Lily. She'd never let on that her sister's eyes had been the same beautiful emerald green. She had done _nothing_ good for the boy in the entirety of his stay here in her home.

She glanced out the high window at the darkening sky.

And now that boy was gone. He'd grown into the same courageous spirit that had resided in her sister and her husband, and he'd walked out of Petunia's home after blowing up Marge. Petunia couldn't feel too bad for the woman, as the letter in her hand stated that the woman would be found as quickly as possible and put right, left with no memory of the incident. Not that it mattered, Petunia hated the woman. She was revolting, really, and Petunia looked forward to her visits no more than Harry did.

The letter had been delivered by hand, much to Vernon's chagrin. The little old wizard had popped into existence - Petunia remembered when Lily had passed her Apparition test - in her backyard, sending Vernon upstairs where he locked himself and Dudders in their bedroom. She spoke with the wizard, who was kind enough to tell her that Harry would most certainly not be expelled for this display of accidental magic - she couldn't bear the idea of what would happen to him if he was stuck here all year round. She'd asked, in a lowered voice, if he could find Harry. The man's shock had registered on his face when she'd assured him that Harry wasn't at the house with them. She told him that he'd run off with his school trunk, wand in hand, and the man nodded as he assured her that they would find him as soon as possible. For once, she was glad of the legacy that had been left to the boy - it meant that the entire wizarding world would stop at nothing to find him. She couldn't bear the idea of what would happen to him on his own, and she headed inside.

Telling Vernon that the man was gone and Marge would return soon - she avoided using words pertaining to the 'abnormality' of it all - before she did anything else, she headed back downstairs to clean up the mess in the kitchen. She turned off the televisions and set the plates in the sink to soak. She heard the telly in the living room turn on and knew that her husband and son would be distracted for a while. After cleaning the remnants of dinner from the room, she clutched the letter in her hand and traipsed wearily up the stairs and down the hall, to the bathroom where she now resided.

How could she have done this? To Harry, and by association, to his mother. How could she treat her sister's son, her nephew - her own flesh and blood - this way? How could she have allowed Vernon and Dudley to treat him the way they did? How did she ever dare to let on as though she didn't love Harry? She was his aunt, his only family, and she had let him believe all these years, that there was nobody in the world to love him, to care if something were to happen to him. It was her fault that he'd run away, her fault that he was missing now. Everything was her fault, and her hands caught her face as she began to quietly sob.

After a half hour of crying and a hot shower that made her feel more tired than rejuvenated, she was alarmed by a loud scuffling up the stairs. She stepped out of her room, redressed, just as Dudley ran past, springing into his room and slamming the door behind him. She turned her head back to the stairs as Vernon appeared at the top. He stopped just long enough to speak to her before slamming their bedroom door behind him.

"It was _your_ sister, you deal with him."

She hurried down the stairs, intent on quietly apologizing for all the wrong she'd done. The relief on her face disappeared as she realized that it wasn't Harry Potter that sat in her living room. The same old wizard from her backyard sat waiting for her, his expression rather cooler than the first time they'd spoken. She stood in the doorway to the room, unsure of what his return meant and what she should do. He saved her the trouble, standing on his own.

"Mr. Potter has been found. He'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, Miss Dursley." He nodded abruptly, waiting for her to nod in reply, a small 'thank you' accepted just before he popped back out of her house. She sighed, resting her head on the wall before heading back up the stairs to kiss Dudley goodnight. She stopped at Harry's room - he'd left the light on, his sparse belongings scattered about in his haste to leave. She sighed, staring at an abandoned Gryffindor flag on his desk - no doubt from some broomstick game, like those his father had been so fond of. She glanced at the open window, noticing that he hadn't shut it after Hedwig's night out. She stepped back into the hall, leaving the room just as he had left it. She knew that he was unlikely to return tonight - or at all before next year - but she couldn't bear to change the state of his room. Even if it was a fruitless gesture, she needed to make one gesture of acceptance to Harry.

She settled into bed, relieved that Harry would be okay for the time being. She could always write him, or wait until he returned from school next summer to tell him that she was sorry for treating him the way she had. Falling asleep, she repeated to herself that her sister's son, a tough and brave Gryffindor just like his parents, would survive the rest of the summer on his own.

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AN: So, this wasn't even the _time_ that I originally wanted Petunia to be thinking about Harry(I wanted it in the first book), but I think it turned out a LOT better than the original would've. Plus, I imagine that Petunia wouldn't actually like Marge - she's way too rude, nothing like a lady, and blatantly insults her sister. Even if you hate your sister, nobody insults your family but you. Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this, please review and tell me what you think!


	2. The Return of That Boy

AN: I enjoyed writing the first, so I might as well make a sequel, right? Besides, quite a few people favorited just the first chapter(shame on you all for not reviewing and giving feedback). I hope you all like this just as much as the first chapter.

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

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Petunia sighed, hands fidgeting as she paced. She pulled back the curtains to check the street once more before letting them slide back into place. She resumed her pacing in the living room. Dudley sat on the sofa, biding the time with his mother. His foot was tapping, and she wondered why he hadn't turned the telly on.

Vernon was nowhere to be found and the car was gone, insinuating that he'd made good on his threat to leave if she allowed this interaction to occur. She'd frowned, but hadn't really been surprised - Vernon had never changed his opinion towards Harry and his world. She shook her head, accepting that it was just as well. There would be far too much tension if he had stayed. Dudley had gained a much more accepting attitude after Harry had saved him from those... _things_. She shuddered, just thinking about it. She could have lost her boy that day, but Harry had saved him. Despite how the family had always treated him, he'd saved Dudley... This was something she could never repay in all her years.

There was a muffled crack, and a knock that sounded as though it came from the kitchen. Her eyebrows pulled into a frown and she traded a glance with her nineteen year old son. He stood, leading the way to the room. They stopped in the entryway, staring. There, outside the glass of the greenhouse, was Harry. A girl stood next to him, her vibrant red hair swirling about her head. Petunia's mind provided an over-image of Lily and James for a brief second, before she walked the few steps to the door to let them in.

Harry entered the home first, nodding to Petunia. The girl followed, eyeing Dudley warily. She shut the door and turned back to them. They were all standing in a rough circle; the girl was sticking close to Harry, and she wondered if their relationship was what she had assumed. Harry was the first to speak.

"Hullo Aunt Petunia, Dudley." He nodded to them each in turn; they returned the motion. "Thank you for this. I know it's rather unexpected, but I'd like to be sure I have it all." He explained, and Petunia nodded, brushing back a blonde curl that had fallen to her face. She'd understood perfectly when he'd owled her asking if he could stop by to pick up the rest of his things. He must've procured a place to live. She smiled at him and his guest. He took on a surprised look.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. This is Ginny Weasley. Ginny, this is Aunt Petunia and my cousin Dudley." He introduced them. Ginny gave a small smile and shook hands with them. Petunia clapped her hands together lightly.

"Well. Shall we get to it, then?" She suggested before leading the group into the hall and up the stairs to Harry's old room. Nobody had ventured in aside from taking out the lamp for Dudley to take to his flat, so it had taken on a slight musty scent. She flicked on the light, leading the young adults into the rather small room. Harry looked around, and she was unsurprised to see that he didn't seem to be reminiscing. She steeled herself, determined to help and be as much like a proper guardian as she could. She cleared her throat.

"I'll go get some boxes from the basement. I think some of your old things are boxed up down there, anyway." She announced, exiting the room. Those three could handle sorting and tossing what Harry deemed rubbish. She trailed through the house to the door in the kitchen, entering the basement. She pulled the string on the light, hearing it click before it flicked on, casting a bright light over everything. She headed to the pile of empty boxes, grabbing a few and setting them outside the door. She stepped back down the creaky stairs to search for the boxes that were on a shelf somewhere. It'd been a few years, so she had to look through some boxes, but she eventually found two boxes of his things. She pulled one out and set it on the ground. The second was lighter and on a higher shelf, but she managed to get it out without a problem. As she turned to take it up the stairs, a book fell from the shelf, dropping on her foot. It was fairly heavy, and she hissed as she set the box down.

She frowned as she picked up the book, recognizing it immediately. She sighed. Of course this would turn up on this particular day. She let the photo album flop open in her hands; it opened to a page relatively near the front. A picture of Lily and her, eight and nine, caught her attention. She was pulling on Lily's ponytail as mother took the picture, playfully teasing her little sister. A small smile came to her face at the memory. She flipped a couple pages, and - what she later deemed to be the work of fate - landed on a heartbreaking page.

On the left was a professional picture her father had taken of Lily and James on their wedding day. The twilight sun glinted in the background, setting Lily's hair alight. James was beaming at her; they were young and fabulously in love. She tore her eyes from the scene to look at the picture she knew rested opposite - young Harry, in the arms of his father. Lily was peeking around the corner of their parents' kitchen into the room, yelling some type of instruction that Petunia could no longer remember to her husband. Harry was tugging on James' shirt and the man was smirking down at him.

Petunia's heart broke as she smiled down at the picture. A small drop of water landed on the page, and she realized that she was crying. She dabbed her eyes, closing the book. She looked at the shelf and noticed two more of the albums sitting innocently. She flipped through them quickly. Placing the one of her own family back on the shelf, she put the two of the Lily and the Potters in the box and carried it up into the kitchen. After bringing up the other box, she turned out the light and shut the door behind herself. She brought the boxes up to set outside of Harry's old room and entered.

The boys were sorting through some of the papers in Harry's old closet. Ginny sat on the bed, sorting through the boy's old clothes. There was a small pile on the bed, but most of the hand-me-downs had made their way to a messy pile on the floor in front of her. Petunia cleared her throat, gaining the group's attention.

"Harry. Could I speak to you?" He looked confused, but stood nonetheless, following her into the hall. She shut the door lightly before leaning over to pick up the albums.

"I want you to have these." She explained before she lost her nerve. He gave her another confused look, but took the books nonetheless. She nodded, encouraging him to open one. He looked down at them before cautiously cracking the one on top open. There was a small gasp of air as his eyes landed on whatever picture he'd opened to. He stared at it, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away. She smiled at the predicted reaction.

"Most of them are of your mother and our family, but there are some of her and your father, and even a couple of you. Our father was a professional photographer." She told him. He looked up at her briefly before his eyes returned to the booklet. He slowly flipped the page, eyes every bit as entraced with the next page. She noticed the picture of her and Lily eating ice cream cones in the summer, sighing at it.

"The negatives are in a pouch on the insides of the back covers. If you don't mind too much..." he looked up as she paused. "I'd appreciate it if you could get some duplicates for me." She was caught off guard by the sudden hug she was enveloped in. He didn't show any signs of letting go soon, and although she was certainly not used to hugs from him, she raised her arms to pat the boy on the back. A minute later he stepped back, a smile wider than any she'd seen before on his face. He grabbed one of the dropped albums, flipping to the back. He tenderly pulled out the negatives, repeating the action with the other book. He lifted them at last, placing the books into her arm. She could feel the confusion on her face.

"Thank you Aunt Petunia. So much. But please, you keep them. I'll just get my own copies made." He said, gesturing with the negatives. He smiled, giving her another quick hug before returning to the room. She set the books on a hallway table before entering the room as well. Dudley and Ginny appeared to be done with their tasks. Ginny had stuffed the rubbish clothes into a trash bag and tied it. The bag rested against a leg of the desk. Harry smiled at her, and Petunia outright stared at the extreme resemblance between him and his father - they even smiled the same. As he took Ginny's hand, she sighed. He was no longer a boy, no longer the boy she raised. He was a man now, a man in love. She smiled at Ginny.

"It was wonderful to meet you Ginny. Did you two get everything you needed? I hope Dudley was helpful." She fretted; it felt good to be able to do so without Vernon breathing down her back. She loved him, oh yes, but sometimes the man was downright unbearable. Harry smiled at her, a sight she wished she'd seen more frequently.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia. Yes, I think we've got everything. And Dudley was a great help, right mate?" He amiably referred to her son, who was standing awkwardly by the wardrobe as though unsure what to do with himself. He nodded, shuffling his feet and sticking his hands in his pockets. Ginny shuffled past while Petunia frowned at Dudley. What was wrong with him? He'd been looking forward to his cousin returning - even through all the nervous twitching, she'd seen it - so why was he acting this way now? He noticed her look and whipped his hands out, letting them hang at his sides. He was still restless. Harry'd noticed too, now.

"Wassamatter, Duds?" He questioned, grabbing the stack of papers and the folded clothes. He set them carefully into the box that Ginny brought in. The girl walked back out, and Petunia saw her heave up the heavier of the two boxes without breaking a sweat. Dudley shuffling forward brought her attention back to the boys. Her son's arm was outstretched towards Harry, hand open.

"I just wanted to say... 'M sorry." He nodded, as though it had taken a mighty effort to get the words out. She'd never heard Dudley apologize to anyone before, and stared just as wide-eyed as Harry did. The boy seemed to shake off the shock, grabbing Dudley's hand slowly. He smiled as they shook hands, before pulling him into a brief hug resembling theirs from the hallway.

"'S no problem, Big D." The use of his childhood nickname seemed to relax Dudley some. She felt herself tearing up as Ginny watched from the hallway, a small, knowing smile on her face. The boys stepped back from each other and Harry picked up the box, setting the negatives gently inside and walking into the hall. She ushered Dudley out and flicked out the lights, shutting the door behind herself. Harry stacked the box on top of the other in the hallway, and they headed to the backyard, where a nice breeze was sweeping through the autumn leaves. Harry looked around at the neighbors' windows.

"See anyone watching, Ginny?" He questioned. The girl shook her head and the couple turned towards her and her son.

"It was nice seeing you again, Aunt Petunia. But we really must be getting back to Grimauld Place. Hermione and Ron are getting married next month, and everyone's been tripping over themselves lately trying to make everything perfect for them. I wanted to do this before I forgot, though." He glanced around once more, nodded to Ginny, and the girl turned. There was a crack and she was gone.

"It was lovely to see you again. I'll try to keep you updated if anything comes up." He said. Before she could say anything, he continued. "Don't worry, I'll send by muggle mail. And I'll get those negatives back to you as soon as I've made my copies. For now, have a good afternoon." He smiled, and with a turn and accompanying crack, he was gone. The wind swirled a few leaves down from the trees. She smiled at her son and herded him into the house, where she proceeded to pull out all of the photo albums she could find. They spent the time waiting for Vernon to return flipping through the pictures, questioning, describing, and reminiscing.

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AN: So, I hope you liked this little sequel. I was inspired when I read through the original story and she mentioned not letting him see pictures of Lily. By the way, I had him take the negatives because he could have them developed into wizarding pictures, so that they move. YAY! Read and review, please!


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